


Stay Close

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s03e06 I Ka Wa Mamua, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:21:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode Tag for 3x8.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay Close

Grace sighs into Danny's shoulder when he picks her up, yawns as he walks toward the stairs at Steve's place, cradling her in his arms. It's a good night for a sleepover, good to have people close, he thinks; good to be at Steve's instead of his own apartment. His place feels small on the best of days; on days like this it feels like it's closing in. 

Grace stirs in his arms. "I liked when we – what's it called, Danno?" she asks sleepily

"Danced?" Danny suggests, cradling the back of her head with one hand. 

"Nooo." She huffs against his neck. "The one with the funny name."

"Salsa?"

"Yeah, salsa. That was fun."

Danny smiles, kisses the top of her head. "You didn't know how fun your Danno could be, huh?" He gently kicks open her bedroom door, sets her down so that she can sit on the edge of the bed.

"I knew," she says, swaying slightly from tiredness. "You're my Danno."

Danny smiles as best he can. He came so close to losing this today – the idea of it backs up in his throat for a moment or two, makes it hard to breathe. "Always," he says seriously, voice a little rough. He clears his throat. "Now, monkey – you wanna sleep in that dress or put on your pajamas?"

Grace pats her skirt and sighs. "Pajamas. Maybe I can wear this the next time we go dancing."

"You bet you can. Maybe Uncle Steve can dance, too."

Grace laughs. "Uncle Steve can't dance. I can tell. He's bad at swaying."

Danny laughs a little. "That'll be our little secret. Go, go on, brush your teeth. Let's put away the sparkles for tonight, huh? Get a little beauty sleep, wake up in time for pancakes."

"Pancakes!" Grace says, smiling beatifically as she ambles to the bathroom. "Chocolate chip!"

"Blueberry, and you'll like it," Danny says. "Don't make me get Uncle Steve on the case. He'll put whole grains in 'em again."

It's half an hour later when Danny closes Grace's door, eases out into the upstairs hallway then back downstairs. The tub of ice cream's still on the dining room table, messy now, spoons abandoned. Danny tsks at the mess, picks up the tub, heads into the kitchen to find a cloth. He finds Steve instead, lost in thought, staring out into the dark through the kitchen window.

"Hey," he says gently, snapping the lid back on the tub. "You okay?"

Steve turns around, and the look on his face takes the wind out of Danny's sails. It's a long time since someone looked at him with such fierce affection, the kind that looks like it's hurting them a little. Steve shakes his head. "I just – "

Danny crosses the kitchen, reaches up to pull Steve into a hug. "We're okay. We're both okay." He feels a shudder travel the length of Steve's spine, feels Steve's hands fist in the back of his shirt. "Hey, hey, I'm right here."

"All I could do was stay," Steve says, voice muffled by Danny's shoulder. "It's all I could do, be there if things went south."

"Which was stupid, I gotta tell you," Danny offers, running a hand up and down Steve's back. "But it was . . . it was something. It was really something. I don't think I could have – "

Steve squeezes him harder. 

"Hey," Danny says gently, hand around the back of Steve's neck. "How 'bout you and me, we call it a night, huh? It's been a hell of a day."

Steve loosens his hold, steps back just a little, turns his head to look out of the kitchen window again, as if Danny can't read his face. "Yeah."

"Yeah," Danny says, tugging on his arm. "Come on, upstairs. I'm beat. I don't know about you, but three hours dancing to Carly Rae and One Direction is about as taxing an endeavor as I can manage without alcohol – of which there was none, it being a party for kids, you understand . . . " And he keeps up the chatter the whole way up the stairs, Steve flicking off the lights behind him; talks his way through brushing his teeth, scrubbing his face, stripping down to his shorts as Steve takes his turn in the bathroom. By the time Steve comes back, Danny's already in bed, and his words are running dry. "Minty," he offers, and that gets a smile.

"Come here," Steve says, and Danny needs no encouragement to press in close, to shut his eyes and breathe in the scent of Steve's skin, to let the trembling build, then hold, then break.

"You stayed," he says, and Steve pulls the sheet and the blanket up higher, wraps them up in a pale cocoon.

It's Steve's turn to run a hand up and down the length of Danny's back. "Always," he murmurs.


End file.
